Chapter 46: The Flower within the Corpse Part 1

Sang Chencao peeled off the entire face mask with agonizing slowness. Once the unremarkable camouflage was shed, her shadowy, enchanting expression finally matched her features.

The sense of wrongness that had plagued Feng Yun’ai finally dissipated. Looking at the woman now, she found the sight much more bearable.

“Go ahead and test its authenticity yourself. I won’t touch a single hair on Feng Rong’s head, lest Wen Lanxin decides to kill me,” Sang Chencao said, dangling the thin, artificial skin. Her posture was somewhat ghastly, reminiscent of the skin-painting ghosts from old fables.

Feng Yun’ai stared down at Feng Rong for a long time before finally taking the fire striker from Sang Chencao’s hand.

Before seeing Feng Rong, she had a thousand words prepared in her heart. Now that she stood before her, she couldn’t utter a single syllable.

Could this really not be Feng Rong?

Those thin eyebrows, the shallow eye sockets, the bridge of the nose that rose slightly to give her an air of pride, the lips…

Those lips would never speak to her again.

Feng Yun’ai stepped forward, her body trembling. “Little Yun begs your forgiveness for this offense,” she whispered.

Sang Chencao stood silently behind her, ears pricked to catch any movement in the surroundings.

Normally, Feng Rong would never allow anyone to serve her so closely. Even her sleeve was something Feng Yun’ai had rarely touched.

Feng Yun’ai carefully pulled back the lapels of Feng Rong’s robes. She had intended to bring the fire striker close immediately, but as she leaned in, the fragrance grew so dense it made her head swim.

What is this scent?

Feng Yun’ai leaned down to sniff closer, her nose nearly touching Feng Rong’s hair. She froze, then hurriedly brushed aside the hair covering Feng Rong’s ear. There, she discovered something startling.

A branch was emerging from the woman’s ear.

Indeed, it was a branch—a tender, delicate shoot. It was slightly reddish, and its buds were smaller than grains of rice, clearly a new growth.

The hair on Feng Yun’ai’s neck stood on end. She nearly dropped the fire striker. Taking a shallow breath to steady herself, she slowly brought the flame toward Feng Rong’s neck and chest.

Despite the heat, there was no curling or wrinkling of the skin. It was entirely different from the disguise mask in Sang Chencao’s hand.

Sang Chencao had seen it too. She remained silent for a moment before hesitating. “What is that thing?”

Feng Yun’ai was closer and could smell it more clearly. There was no doubt that the strange fragrance was radiating from this branch.

Ordinary plants rarely produced such a rich aroma unless they were crushed or in full bloom. Moreover, this branch wasn’t growing in soil—it was growing out of a corpse!

If it continued to sprout and grow, wouldn’t the entire body eventually be covered in foliage? Or perhaps the corpse would simply become a stump, with its flesh and organs serving as nutrients.

Feng Yun’ai had never seen such a ghoulish technique in any book. Was this meant to preserve the body, or was it the very thing that had killed Feng Rong?

“Unheard of.” Sang Chencao didn’t seem to fear that the branch might be poisonous; she reached out to pinch it.

Feng Yun’ai suddenly grabbed Sang Chencao’s hand. The woman was wicked, yes, but she shouldn’t die a dog’s death here.

Fortunately, Sang Chencao quickly withdrew her hand. After rubbing her fingers and seeing no change, she took out a silver needle and used it to prick the tender leaves on the branch.

The needle did not turn black.

“Not poisonous?” Feng Yun’ai asked, skeptical.

Sang Chencao nodded with great interest. She took out a handkerchief to wipe the needle but didn’t put it away. Instead, she pointed it toward Feng Rong’s slightly exposed chest.

“What are you doing!” Feng Yun’ai raised her voice.

“I want to cut open Senior Feng’s chest and see what the inside has turned into,” Sang Chencao said bluntly. Her eyes were bright with a frightening, inexplicable madness.

“Stop!” Feng Yun’ai was truly terrified that Sang Chencao would actually dissect Feng Rong.

Sang Chencao eventually retracted the needle. Instead, she pinched Feng Rong’s cheeks, forcing her mouth open.

The corpse was soft; she actually managed to pry the teeth apart.

Feng Yun’ai looked away, her heart twisting in her chest. Yet, she also hoped to find the truth behind Feng Rong’s tragic death, even if it was just a tiny clue.

Squeezing Feng Rong’s cheeks, Sang Chencao suddenly narrowed her eyes. “Her throat is also filled with branches and leaves. They likely grew out of her internal organs. It seems Feng Rong ate something extraordinary.”

“When I left Listening Goose Peak, I heard Zhou Gui say there were needle wounds on Master’s body,” Feng Yun’ai said, lifting Feng Rong’s sleeves to search earnestly.

“There must be needle wounds. Otherwise, how else would they frame Wen Lanxin?” Sang Chencao remarked nonchalantly.

After searching, Feng Yun’ai finally found traces of needle wounds on the back of Feng Rong’s neck. However, because the corpse was in a state between life and death, the puncture marks looked as if they had been made while she was alive, providing no conclusive evidence.

Sang Chencao pressed around the needle marks and sneered. “The needles themselves don’t look poisonous. But if they claim Wen Lanxin created some powerful new toxin—like these branches and leaves—I doubt anyone would contradict them.”

This was true. The world knew very little about Wen Lanxin. How could they possibly determine if the needles or the plants were her doing?

At this point, whether it was Sang Chencao or Wen Lanxin who stepped forward to argue, they would undoubtedly be walking into a trap.

“It seems that in time, Feng Rong’s body will completely vanish. It’s quite an effective way to destroy the evidence.” Sang Chencao withdrew her hand and looked down to wipe her fingers.

For a split second, Feng Yun’ai actually felt the urge to cut Feng Rong open herself. She wanted to rip out the branches rooted deep within her, to return Feng Rong to her whole state.

Feng Yun’ai’s face was cold. She suppressed that impulse, but she couldn’t suppress her killing intent. Her chilling inner qi began to seep out of her, though she was entirely unaware of it.

Sang Chencao stared intently at Feng Yun’ai and leaned in. “Angry? You’re so angry you actually look like a living person. If Feng Rong were still alive, she would probably be quite gratified. She practiced the Sword of Heartlessness herself, acting with cold detachment. she could see through sword techniques, but she couldn’t see through her own heart. The student she raised was the same. Fortunately, there is still a chance for things to change.”

“What of the Sword of Heartlessness?” Feng Yun’ai couldn’t stand hearing anyone disparage her master.

Sang Chencao lightly poked Feng Yun’ai over her heart, her gaze fixed and piercing. “If you don’t know where your heart leads, you’re nothing but a walking husk. If that’s the case, what is the meaning of remaining in this world? What is the point of mastering the sword to its peak?”